Miss Innocent And Way Too Sweet
by fearlessgoddess2
Summary: With Sam having an appendicitis attack, Dean calls in a favor from an old friend, Dr. Allison Cameron. Crossover with House.
1. Chapter 1

**Miss Innocent-and-Way-Too-Sweet**

**Summary: With Sam having an appendicitis attack, Dean calls in a favor from an old friend, Dr. Allison Cameron. Crossover with House. Feel free to review or critique! I love to hear what fans like/don't like about my stories so I can get better!**

**Reviews are like chocolate!**

Chapter 1:

Sam was curled up in the backseat of the Impala, his breathing erratic as he gasped through the pain. "Getting…worse," he rasped.

"We're almost there, Sammy. Just hang on." Dean saw Sam give a brief nod in return. "I called Ali, left a message with lots of 'please's' and lots of begging, and I'm waiting on a call back. We're like 15 minutes away. If—." Dean turned his divided attention between the road and Sam into doing three things at once as he picked up his ringing cell phone. "Yea?"

"_Dean Winchester, what the Hell is going on?_" whispered a harsh voice in disbelief. A harsh voice that Dean immediately recognized.

"Look, Ali, I don't have time to go into details." Dean knew that would cover everything. "The only luck we've had within the last forty-eight hours is the fact that we're close to the hospital you work at. How much does an appendectomy cost without insurance?"

Dr. Allison Cameron walked quickly down the hall and into an unoccupied room, closing the door behind herself. "_What? Ah…like $15,000. Why?_"

"Because we're about fifteen minutes out and we don't have insurance. And we were on national television for the hostage crisis like two days ago. We need some help."

"_Are you insane?_" she cried, trying to keep her voice to a minimal volume.

"No, Ali, actually I'm pretty sure I'm very sane at the moment. Very calm and down to Earth. Seeing as my brother has gone from dizziness to fever to nausea to him in the back seat of my car curled up into a fetal position because of lower right abdominal pain he's experiencing." Dr. Cameron opened her mouth for a second, then closed it. "You were close. I figured I had nothing to lose by calling you," Dean said.

"_And you need me to prep a room and surgeons for an appendectomy for someone coming in fifteen minutes when he and his brother just happen to be wanted felons?_"

"You've got to have doctors that'll help you. Friends you can count on? Guys high up the food chain that owe you favors? Or who you can promise special favors to—?"

"_Dean!_" Allison exclaimed, partially offended and partially annoyed at his desperation.

"Look, I don't know much about appendicitis, but I do know that if you don't remove it before it explodes, things get a lot more complicated. If you can't help or don't have the money to loan me, which it is by the way, _a loan_, we'll take our chances coming into the emergency room blind, but I was hoping I could get some help from an old friend. Being as I'm in a tight position here, she _maybe _could _possibly _help me out."

Dean heard the pause and knew that she would say yes. Cameron sighed, less of regret of helping him out and more of just exasperation. Another few seconds passed. "_You know I can't say no to you. You're practically family._" She paused. "_You aren't being followed by anyone? Or anything?_"

"Quite honestly, I can't completely promise the any_thing_, I never really can, but we weren't on a job and I don't think we're being tailed."

"_All right. There are a couple other things it could be, but we can pretty much confirm it when he comes in. If we're unsure, we'll get a CT scan, but I'll ready an OR anyway. Pull around back to the parking lot near the clinic. Park as close as you can; if there's a handicapped spot, use it, it won't get towed. Leave the car off but the lights on. I'll take care of the rest_."

Dean let out a silent sigh of relief of the assistance. He paused. "Thanks, Ali."

"_Yea. Call me if symptoms progress_."

"Will do."


	2. Chapter 2

**I wasn't sure if people would like this fanfic, basically because of the fact that I'm giving Cameron so much history in this life and the show hasn't given viewers much at all. But I've gotten five reviews and ten people signed up for story alerts just on the first chapter alone, so I'm going to take that as a good sign! :) Hope you like this next chapter, and please tell me how you think I wrote House's character, if it's accurate. So heeeere's House!**

Chapter 2:

Dr. Allison Cameron walked quickly back down the hall and into the other room, where Foreman and Chase sat at the glass table and House had, a few minutes ago, walked in with a new case.

"House, I need to talk to you," she said succinctly, walking past him and into his office.

Slightly stunned, House glanced to the other two doctors as he stood up, leaning on his cane. "Unless I miscalculated, it's not her time of the month yet, is it?" he asked, walking after her.

House followed Cameron into his office, letting the glass door close behind him as she waited, arms folded. "I need a favor."

"All right, fine, I'll let you borrow my motorcycle. But if you scratch it—."

"House," Cameron said, her voice low and serious.

Dr. House looked to his employee, his eyes narrowing at her attitude. He briefly nodded to her jacket pocket, where her cell phone now was. "Who'd you leave the office to talk to?"

"He's an old friend of mine. His brother needs an appendectomy. They're about fifteen minutes out."

"Well that's probably a good thing, since appendectomies are usually done at hospitals."

"They're both wanted felons," Cameron whispered. "Dean's wanted for murder, among other things. The fact that he's innocent is mostly beside the point. He's a trusted friend who's always had my back. I owe him. I need you to call in some favors for me to get him in and out of the hospital without anyone knowing he's here. They don't have insurance, so I'm going to cover them."

House stared at her. "Am I being Punk'ed?"

"House!" she snapped, walking forward and into his personal space, eyes narrowed. Cameron noticed, through the glass partition, that Chase and Foreman had looked over to them at her exclamation. She lowered her voice. "I need you and Foreman and Chase to _help me_. I've never asked you for anything like this before. I've got some money saved up for emergencies. This qualifies. I'll pay the $15,000 or whatever for the appendectomy, but I need you to help me keep it quiet. They've got fake ID's and fake insurance, but none of that will help if someone recognizes them from their national television debut two days ago in a hostage situation and calls the police. The surgery will take about an hour if it goes well and I can probably get them to stay overnight to let Sam recover, but they'll be sitting ducks until they leave."

Cameron could see the gears working in House's head. First it was doubt, then it was the realization that she was serious.

"First, quick question. How the Hell did the most innocent girl I know end up friends with anyone remotely dangerous?" House asked.

Cameron sighed. "Dean'll get a kick out of that one. It's a long story. And not one I particularly want to go into."

House hesitated, and then briefly glanced away, presumably to consider the repercussions of something like this to himself, since that was always what he deemed most important. But she knew he wouldn't let her down with something like this. He considered her a friend, however tentatively. So then it was the brief glance away of thinking about the best way he could pull this off.

That, and she'd owe him big time, which he would take definite advantage of.

House took a breath and nodded once. "Chase'll do the surgery. Foreman will get an OR prepped and I'll talk to a couple nurses who I can get to help with this under the radar. They'll meet you down at the ambulance entrance to the ER. Call Dean, have him drive up there and drop Sam off and go park. You get Sam on a gurney and get him to the OR. Have both of them put on…hooded sweatshirts or baseball caps or something equally lame until they're behind closed doors. And I'll take care of Cuddy."

The tension in Cameron's stance relaxed slightly and she nodded. "Thank you." She turned to leave the office.

"Cameron," he said, looking after her. She looked back. "We'll talk later." Cameron hesitated, but then nodded reluctantly, exiting the room.

House turned back to the other two doctors, who were waiting in the other room for news of what was going on. "Foreman, I need you to prep an OR for an appendectomy."

Foreman blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Just do it. Chase, you'll be doing the surgery. The patient is ten minutes out."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, House?" Chase asked, standing with Foreman as House began to walk toward the door. "What's going on?"

House looked from Chase to Foreman, automatically considering which angle to play. "Cameron needs our help, no questions asked. She's calling in a favor. As a friend."

Chase blinked, then looked to Foreman and back to House. "I'm in," he said softly.

Foreman hesitated, and then sighed. "Me too," he replied.

"Good," House replied. He turned and limped out of the office, going down the hall to the right as Chase and Foreman went to the left. "Harboring known fugitives…accessory after the fact…obstruction of justice…. How much prison time is all that anyway?" he murmured to himself, pressing the elevator button.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! Knowing people are really liking this story makes me want to post lots! :) I got one request for drugged, humorous Sammy, so I'm going to try to put him in somewhere later…. **

Chapter 3:

After making the call to Dean to correct the directions of where to go and tell him House's suggestion of some casual disguises, Cameron waited outside with two nurses. Apparently House had called in a favor with each, or threatened or bribed them; Cameron wasn't sure which. And she had no idea how House was going to keep Cuddy out of the loop, but then again she had no idea how House pulled off half the stuff he did. He had managed to get an OR confirmed about thirty seconds ago though.

When the black Impala finally pulled up to the emergency room entrance, Cameron went over with the nurses and helped Sam out of the car and onto the gurney.

"Hey Ali. Long time no see," Dean quipped, shutting his door.

"Right," she replied with a half-smile. Per her request, Sam sported a dark sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head. Turning his head to the right and trying not to curl back around the pain, Sam was unrecognizable to a stranger. After pulling up Sam's shirt and tentatively pressing down on the side of his abdomen and receiving the expected reaction of a cry of pain through clenched teeth, Cameron motioned the nurses inside. She asked Dean a few standard questions before nodding. "Sounds like textbook appendicitis. Go park and I'll wait here to bring you somewhere to sit."

Dean nodded and hesitated. "Ah…thanks. For all this," he murmured.

Cameron nodded, giving him a soft smile. "You're welcome."

Dean got back into his car and drove to the parking lot. Cameron took out her cell phone and called House, relaying the information that Dean had given to her, confirming her previously off-the-wall diagnosis of appendicitis. When Dean came back, a sweatshirt pulled over his head and staring at the ground, Cameron led him inside to the empty room where Sam would be recovering.

Closing the door and motioning to two chairs sitting against the wall, Cameron sat down and Dean did the same. "You look good," Dean said with his trademark cocky smile, pulling back his hood to reveal his short blonde hair. "Taller actually."

Cameron smirked. "Five years will do that to a person. You look pretty good yourself. So. What happened?" she asked simply.

"With Sam's massive indigestion or the national television debut?" Dean asked.

"Let's start with Sam," she replied dryly.

"Ah…we were going to lay low for a few days after Milwaukee. We spent the next day driving east, figuring we could find a job in New England later without too much trouble. We've got a room at a motel about half an hour from here. We'd been hanging out for like a day when Sam started getting randomly dizzy and feverish. You know us, we brushed it off, blamed it on stress, whatever, but it got worse. He got nauseous, then his stomach started really hurting. When it didn't go away and started to persist in his lower right abdomen, that's when we started to worry."

"You mean that's when _he _started to worry," Cameron said.

Dean looked down to his hands, smiling. "Yea. So I put in a call to you, hoping you'd call back before we got to the hospital. Figured worst came to worst, we'd give them some fake ID's and hope nobody watches too much TV."

"That would have worked out great, I'm sure," Cameron replied.

Dean snorted. "Yea."

"And what was Milwaukee?"

"Ah…job went south after we got trapped in a bank hostage situation with a shapeshifter and a well-meaning civilian with a gun who thought he was hunting a Mandroid."

Cameron blinked. "I'm sorry, he what?"

Dean smiled at her. "We'd interviewed the guy, Ronald, and turns out that he'd been tracking the shapeshifter, who had turned into one of his friends. When he saw the camera flare in the security tape, he was convinced it was a Mandroid. After he took the entire bank hostage with me and Sam in it, dead set on killing this thing, we managed to convince him that it was a shapeshifter. We killed it, but, ah…Ronald didn't make it. One other casualty, an employee at the bank."

"That…sucks," she replied quietly.

"Yea. Looks like you've been doing okay for yourself though," Dean said, motioning to the hospital.

"Pretty much. After medical school, I got an internship, did really well, and things took off."

"I know it took a while to really get out of hunting though," Dean replied. "Especially when you still volunteered to marry Jacob when your dad was grasping at straws to save his life from that shadchan eight years ago. You know, the one who mixed up matchmaking with voodoo?"

"Do we really have to get into that? My dad needed a woman for the ceremony for the ritual to work," Cameron told him. "Besides, all I had to do was stay legally and spiritually married to him for five years." She sighed, looking down to her hands. "My dad was desperate. And Jacob died six months later anyway. It's not like what I did helped."

"Hey, wait a minute," Dean objected. "You gave him six more months than he would have gotten. That mattered."

"Yea, just didn't seem like enough. I got through medical school though. It helped to have my dad on my side. It's easier to go to college and not become a hunter like your father if you've got support," Cameron said, looking to Dean pointedly, efficiently changing the topic.

Dean looked to her, the makings of a glare on his face. "Yea, yea," he muttered.

"How is Sam these days?" she asked. "I haven't talked to him much since his girlfriend died."

"He's all right. We've, ah…. We've been going through some rough times though."

"Rougher than what?" Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean glanced at her sideways. "Yea, no kidding. Ah…I'm interested actually. What have you heard?"

Cameron's eyes narrowed curiously. "About what?"

"About us."

"Um…not much. I talk to Jason and my dad, but I left that world a while ago. I mean I heard when your dad passed, and I called you. The death of a hunter like him was hard to not hear about. And I heard that demonic possessions are spiking like they haven't in years. Why?" she asked.

"It's…not really something I like to talk about," Dean said, avoiding her gaze. "Or spread around really."

Cameron's eyes narrowed further. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that we've had family stuff going on," Dean replied evasively. "Stuff that's been making more trouble for us than normal. Stuff that I don't want to involve you in."

Cameron hesitated for a few seconds and then nodded. "All right."


	4. Chapter 4

**I got one review from a reader looking forward to House getting his claws into Dean. :) Well, here goes nothing!**

Chapter 4:

Since Cameron knew that House would be stopping by the room in a few minutes to talk to them, they kept up the conversation.

"Hey, how's your brother doing by the way?" Dean asked. "And your dad? Haven't talked to them in a while."

"Jason's good," Cameron replied. "Last I heard about a week ago he was working on a job down in Texas. Some haunting or whatnot. My dad's been taking it easier than he used to. Less hunting, more researching. He's still in that world though."

Dean stared at Cameron for a few moments. "You're really different," he said suddenly.

"Well like I said, five years will do that to a person," she replied.

"Yea. I'm just used to Ali. Not Dr. Cameron."

"Maybe I was sick of being the girl who shot the Hell out of something first and asked questions later," Cameron said softly.

"Yea. I guess—." Dean cut off when the door swung open and a man walked in, shutting it behind himself.

"Cameron usually gets paid by the hour, so keep an eye on the clock," House said, walking into the room.

Dean blinked. "Who's the dick?" he asked.

Cameron sighed. "This _dick _is my boss, Dean," she told him. "The one saving your ass?"

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Interesting. Two curses in as many sentences," House said, looking between Dean and Cameron with slightly narrowed eyes. "And you usually hardly curse at all."

"What can I say? Dean brings out the best in me," Cameron deadpanned.

"So this is the felon I'm risking prison time for?" House asked, leaning against the wall.

"Dean," he said, standing up and holding out his hand. "And I appreciate you helping us out."

"Doctor Gregory House," he replied. House shook his hand and Dean sat back down. "Your brother's in surgery. If it goes textbook, he should be done within the hour. So. Did you dramatically rescue her from certain death years back, or what?" House asked. "Calling in favors at your job and forking over thousands of dollars for a surgery hardly qualifies as the average good deed for a friend."

"Nah, I'm just really good in bed," Dean replied.

"Dean!" Cameron exclaimed.

Dean looked over to her, seemingly surprised. "You know, you would have let that joke slide right over you ten years ago."

"I've changed a bit," she said softly.

"So I see," he replied.

The room was silent for a few moments before House spoke up. "Nobody answered my question."

"That's cause you really don't want to know the answer," Dean told him.

"Oh, I really do," House objected.

"No, House, you really don't," Cameron shot back.

House stared at her. "When I said before that we'd talk later, it wasn't a suggestion."

"Dean and I were a thing like nine or ten years ago," Cameron explained. "We've stayed close." She realized even before she said it that the explanation was lame, but she had to give it a try.

"No, see, staying close with an ex is sending crappy birthday cards with checks inside and stopping by when you're visiting a sick grandmother who lives in the area. If you'd at least been married to the guy, it would have popped up on the background check."

"They did a background check on you and you still got hired?" Dean asked, looking to Cameron as he raised an eyebrow.

Cameron narrowed her eyes at him in a glare. "You know, most of us manage to keep our faces off of national newscasts in hostage situations."

Dean sighed, giving her a shrug and a nod of acknowledgement that she had a point. "Yea, well, Ali, when I asked if you could call in favors to cover me and Sam getting in and out of the hospital, I didn't expect your boss to be asking questions and expecting truthful answers," he told her.

"Dean, could you…elaborate on that?" House asked. "The whole background check issue?"

"No, not really," Dean replied.

"See, the problem I'm having here is the fact that _I_ am asking all these questions and getting no answers, and _I _am the one with all the great blackmail material," House pointed out, looking from Dean to Cameron.

"House," Cameron started. She stopped when Dean started to rise and she grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. "Dean," she said, her voice slightly harsher at the determined, pissed look on his face. "I know it's not your specialty, but sometimes the situation calls for less hit-them-until-they-agree-with-you and more kiss-their-ass."

Dean looked to Cameron, disbelief on his face. "So, what, you saying you should tell him how we know each other? To say that could get a little complicated is the understatement of the century," he said.

Cameron briefly closed her eyes. "I'm saying that getting in his face is not going to help."

Dean shook his head. "You got a lot less fun since the last time I saw you," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"I like to think I got a lot more normal," she replied softly.

Dean looked over to her, an indiscernible look on his face. "Guess I can't really blame you for wanting normal," he said.

"Still waiting for an answer to my question," House stated.

Cameron sighed. "Fine," she muttered.

"This is gonna be good," Dean murmured, folding his hands on his lap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Because I wanted to, I decided to post this next chapter now too. Since I'm the writer, I am God, and I can do that! Muhahaha ha*cough*ha*cough…. *****Clears throat***** Anyway. Yea.**

Chapter 5:

Cameron stared at House for a few moments. "I know how you think of me. Sweet, innocent Cameron, the doctor who cares too much and tries too hard. But honestly, that's the way I want it. For you to know everything I'm about to tell you is just…. It's not the way I want my boss to think of me." She sighed. "Let's start with this one. You remember my husband of six months, Jacob?"

House nodded. "Yea. The one that you married cause he was dying of thyroid cancer that metastasized to his brain. Pity marriage."

Dean couldn't help a snort. "You said you married him because he was dying of cancer?" he asked. "That's rich."

"That's what his death certificate said," she replied curtly. "And that's what fit. Besides, it definitely beat the truth." Cameron turned back to House. "The truth was that I married him because my father needed me to as a favor. Jacob was a hunter, like my father, like my brother, and like Sam and Dean, and my dad was performing a ritual to help Jacob with a shadchan that, as Dean put so eloquently, started mixing up matchmaking with voodoo."

House stared at her. "There are so many things screwed up about what you just said, I don't know where to start."

"I know," Cameron sighed. "So here's the deal. I was raised by a father who hunts things. And not in the way you're familiar with the word hunting. He hunts evil things. Like malevolent spirits. Like vampires. Like lycanthropes."

"Werewolves," Dean said, picking at a fingernail.

"Werewolves," Cameron corrected, adjusting to the more common jargon. "Like black dogs and changelings and zombies and ghouls and demons and skinwalkers and a thousand other things that people think are urban legends and scary stories you tell around the campfire. And he trained me to protect myself from everything out there so I'd be safe when I went off to college. Because after my mother was killed by a Jiang Chi, in laymen's terms a Chinese vampire, he became a hunter. And that's what Dean and Sam do."

"Sam and Dean are the Van Helsing brothers?" House asked, giving Cameron a look of disbelief.

Cameron threw up her hands with a sigh. "Sure, House. They're just the Van Helsing brothers who drive around the country living out of their Impala and motel rooms. Look, the thing is, when you skirt around laws to save lives, you end up on live television on every news channel in a hostage situation because you were hunting a shapeshifter. And that's how you end up with a rap sheet that includes everything from grave desecration to murder. So yea, Dean actually has saved my life because he helped me train. He taught me everything from martial arts to emergency first aid to ancient Egyptian mythology. He once took a plane across the country, which he is utterly terrified of—."

"Oh, thank you," Dean snapped, glancing to her.

"—to stay with me," Cameron continued, "and he didn't let me out of his sight for two weeks, when my father was out on a hunt and he was worried for my safety. My dad thought the vampires he was hunting would make good on their promise to come after me for revenge. Dean supported my decision to leave that life and go to medical school. He's always had my back and I've always had his. And when he came to me for help today, that's why I said yes. That's why I'm helping him. Not because he's good in bed. Because, yea, we had a thing nine or ten years ago, and yea, we did stay close after we broke it off," Cameron told him, the statement laced with sarcasm.

House stared at her for a few moments silently, contemplating everything she'd just told him, his eyes seemingly wide and narrowed at the same time.

"And your expression right there is why I don't tell people about my past, House," she whispered. "Not because you think I'm crazy. I know you better than that. And you know me better than that. But because it's the same way you'd look at a talking dog. It's impossible and fascinating and dangerous all at the same time. But the bottom line is, the dog's a freak. It's not like other dogs. It never will be. But until it talked, you saw it as any other…normal dog."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

House stared at Cameron for another ten seconds, and Cameron remained silent, waiting for everything to soak in. Then he looked down to the floor, letting out a soft breath, and then looked back to her. "You're serious about all this," he stated.

"Deadly," she said quietly.

"And that's how you're BFF with a guy wanted for murder," House said with a nod. "And that's why you said Dean would get a kick out of me thinking you're Miss Innocent-and-Way-Too-Sweet."

Dean let out a bark of laughter. "Somebody's been over-compensating," he said, glancing to her.

Cameron's gaze didn't move from House, knowing that he was listing the logical points here to try to sort out everything, the same way he used his whiteboard. "Yea. That's why."

"You know this sounds nuts. But you told me anyway," House continued. "And I would be shocked if you managed to come up with all that crap within the past twenty minutes since you got the phone call that he was coming in. Plus the fact that if I do end up believing you, you're right, I do end up looking at you like a talking dog."

"Uh huh," Cameron said, her voice softening and tensing a bit more.

"And that also explains why you knew I wouldn't want to know the truth. Because it wasn't just about you and Dean. It was this whole other world that you wanted to protect me from," House said. "Not to mention that I can't think of anything so bad that you would want to cover it up with _this_."

Cameron sighed. "Yea."

"If you still don't believe her, you can look in the trunk of the Impala," Dean told him. "That'll have you convinced either she's telling the truth or we're Satanic serial killers."

"Yea, Cameron mentioned that," House replied. "Impala. What year?"

"'67," he replied.

House nodded once. "Good year. What's in the trunk?" he asked, interest in his eyes.

Dean pursed his lips, counting off things on his fingers. "Eight knives and nine guns of varying size, model and caliber, accelerant, salt, matches, an axe, flare guns, wooden stakes, silver stakes, holy water, about twenty different kinds of herbs, EMF meters, blacklights, lockpick, thermal scanner, crossbow, tasers—."

"Okay, I think I get the picture," House said with a tight smile. Dean nodded, sitting back in his chair and giving House a casual smile. House paused for a moment, looking to Dean. "So you really are insane."

Dean's eyes widened. "You really don't believe—?"

"Oh no, I believe you. That's why I'm saying you really are insane. You do this for a freaking _living_?" House asked, looking at Dean like he had three heads.

Dean snorted, sitting back in his seat and shrugging. "It's what I'm good at."

"Uh huh," House said doubtfully. "You drive around the country, living out of your car and motel rooms, tracking and killing things that people watch horror films to see. You do realize people like you is probably where they got the phrase, 'Looking for trouble,' right?"

Dean smiled. "Yea, I do realize that," he replied with a nod.

House looked to Cameron with a sigh. "And here I always thought you were the boring one," he said.

"That's the way I wanted it," she replied.

House glanced at the ground and then back to Cameron. "No one else knows about this? Chase? Foreman?"

"Nobody," Cameron said.

"I guess you're not worried about me telling anyone," House murmured.

"I wouldn't suggest it," she told him. "Not only won't they believe you, they'll think you OD'ed on Vicodin or something."

"So I've got one more question for Dean," House said, looking over to the young man. "Do chicks dig the bad boy persona?"

"In moderate doses? Like you wouldn't believe. The God's honest truth of what I do? Let's say they're more likely to reach for their pepper spray than bring me home with them," he replied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Glad everyone's enjoying it so far! We've got some more Dean and House and then, because we're in the world of the Winchesters, things get interesting and dangerous!**

Chapter 7:

Once it became clear that House and Dean were edging away from topics concerning the supernatural and more into cars and music, Cameron excused herself to go see how the surgery was going.

Dean smiled after her before turning back to House. "I got it from my dad on my sixteenth birthday. He got a truck when I was like twenty-five since I'd started going on some hunts on my own."

"Engine?" House asked. He had, after a few minutes of standing, taken a seat on the empty bed, but once Cameron left he sat down next to Dean.

"427," he said.

"Whoa," House murmured.

"What do you drive?" Dean asked.

"Motorcycle," he replied. "Swindled the money from Wilson a while back to buy it."

"Wilson?"

"He's the head of oncology," House told him. "Likes to think we're friends. The only doctor I know that can get you to thank him after he tells you you're dying."

Dean snorted. "Yea, my brother's kinda like that. Gives women that puppy dog look and just inspires some motherly instinct," he said. "So, now that she left…how has Ali been? I mean I know she's only worked here for like two years, but…."

"She's a one-woman pity party," House replied. "Balances me out I suppose, since I'm pretty much the opposite."

"Huh. I hadn't noticed," Dean said.

House ignored the sarcasm. "No love life to speak of, as far as I know. I mean she is female she does go on dates, and lately she's been doing this cat-and-mouse thing with Chase, but you ask me she doesn't get laid enough."

Dean snorted. "Uh huh."

"What was she like before?" House asked, his eyebrows creased in interest.

"What, you mean before she stopped hunting?"

"Yea."

"I…don't think she'd want me telling you about her old life," Dean told him.

"Ah, come on. What's a few secrets between friends?" House asked.

"We're friends?"

House shrugged. "As much as me and Wilson."

Dean sighed. "Well…I met her when I was like fourteen. She had learned a lot from her dad, but mostly book stuff. Stuff that he could have her learn that wasn't dangerous, you know?" House nodded in acknowledgement. "But she was getting a little annoyed with the fact that he didn't trust her enough to teach her more. That's how she thought of it. He didn't trust her. So eventually she talked him into training her and letting her train with me. If my dad was going on a hunt he thought was too dangerous for me, he'd leave me at Ali's place."

"So you taught her what? How to shoot a man in the heart from 1500 feet?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Hunting is less of being a sniper and more of being a soldier," he replied.

"I was kind of kidding," House said.

"I'm not," Dean said. "Being a sniper separates you from your target. Hunting's the opposite. It's all in your face, blood and gore, pull no punches. My dad was a Marine, which really helped him become a great hunter. I mean, military hand signals and phonetics, martial arts, proficiency with weapons, it all helps. Hunting takes a certain kind of person. Plenty of people experience something supernatural. It's rare that one of those people goes through something so horrible that they take what they know and multiply it by a thousand, to throw away what's left of their life and give everything they have left to a war only a handful of people know we're fighting."

"Sounds depressing," House replied, looking Dean over slightly.

"You've got no idea," Dean sighed, leaning forward, propping his arms on his knees.

"No, I mean you _make _it sound depressing," House clarified.

Dean looked over to him, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Life sucks, and then you die," he told him. "That's the cold, hard truth. I have pain every friggin' day because of deteriorating muscle in my leg. That's why I pop Vicodin like candy. You make your life sound so much worse than mine. Why? You know how to protect yourself from crap that most of the world doesn't know is out there. You get to be a superhero while most of the world has heart attacks because of lack of oxygen working in a cubicle. Not to mention you can have one-night stands and leave town, greatly reducing the risk of getting bombarded by phone calls from whiney women."

Dean stared down at his interlocked fingers as House talked, then pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "You've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh yea? How's that?" House asked.

Dean let his hands drop back to his lap and looked over to House with a cocky smile. "You think I'm going to spill my deep dark secrets just to shove in your face how crappy my life is? Sorry to break it to you, but you're used to manipulating people who _don't_ manipulate for a living," Dean replied.

House sighed. "Damn."


	8. Chapter 8

**Glad you guys liked the House and Dean interaction! For those of you interested, I have put a little druggy Sammy into a later chapter. :) **

**And…cue the fun stuff! *pauses* Well…fun for us. …Not so much for them.**

Chapter 8:

Dean walked down the hall beside Cameron over to Sam's room, House trailing behind them. He opened the door, seeing the African American doctor setting up a new IV for Sam, and walked over to his brother's side.

"Sam'll probably be out for a bit," Cameron said softly, walking to Foreman's side as House entered behind her, letting the door close behind himself. "But since the operation went well, you guys should be out of here by tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know me better than that."

Cameron sighed, looking over Sam, Foreman, and the IV, trying to figure out a way to convince Dean to stay the night. Then she did a double-take to the IV. "Foreman, wait," she said, putting a hand on his arm.

He looked up to her, the needle barely an inch from Sam's vein. "What?"

She pushed him back slightly, getting a better look at the IV. "This was tampered with."

"What?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Cameron looked over to Foreman, her eyes narrowed as well, and he stared back a few seconds before sighing, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Damn," he murmured. Before she could realize what had happened, Foreman had grabbed Cameron, yanking her toward him, putting a scalpel to her throat, his hand tightly gripping her shoulder.

"Nobody moves," Foreman snapped, just as Dean reached into his jacket.

"Foreman, what the—."

"It's not Foreman," Dean snapped, silencing House immediately.

"Lock the door," 'Foreman' said to House. House swallowed anxiously. "Now." House leaned over to the door, locking it. 'Foreman' looked to Dean, fury in his eyes. "So close," he muttered. "Little Miss Scrutiny over here, though…." He tsked as Cameron blinked slowly, her teeth clenched in frustration. "Throw it on the floor," he said to Dean.

Dean blinked. "What?"

"The weapon in your jacket. Throw it on the floor."

Dean's face slackened slightly and reached into his jacket slowly, pulling out the silver knife and tossing it away, letting it clatter to the ground. "So who the Hell are you?" Dean asked, staring at him evenly. "I know the shapeshifter back in Milwaukee was dead. I put the silver through her heart myself."

'Foreman's' eyes angrily flashed white for a moment, causing House to take in a short, sharp breath. "I know. I was there."

Dean's eyes narrowed curiously. "You were its mate?"

"I was _her_ brother," he snapped at Dean at the demeaning statement. "I was right outside the police barricade listening to her thoughts the entire time she was in the bank. We had a special connection."

"How special?" Dean asked, ridicule flashing in his eyes.

'Foreman' pushed the scalpel just a bit more against Cameron's neck and she closed her eyes briefly, pursing her lips. Dean's stance tightened angrily as a small smile flickered across 'Foreman's' face. "Don't get cocky," he whispered.

"All right, look," Dean said quickly. "You want me and Sam. You don't want her."

"Oh no, I don't want you," 'Foreman' replied. "I just want Sam. Give _you_ a chance to live without your sibling." The slightest bit of fear became visible on Dean's face. "Yea. That's what I thought."

"How the Hell'd you find us anyway?" Dean asked, trying to bide his time. "We got away clean."

"You had my sister's blood on your hands," 'Foreman' growled. "Literally. On your shirt, under your fingernails…. I could sense you. Until you took a shower at the first motel you guys got to. From there I was able to follow you to the hospital. You weren't paying too much attention with Sam writhing in pain, so tailing you wasn't too much trouble." Cameron saw Dean's face shift slightly in guilt. She could tell he blamed himself for her current predicament.

Not that she would tell him otherwise. She blamed him too.

"I mean I was going to wait until your next hunt until you were vulnerable, I wasn't stupid enough to go after both of you together without some handicap, but Sam in the hospital worked too. Do me a favor and remember that," 'Foreman' whispered to Dean. "On every job you take from now on, remember that I'm out there. Just waiting for you to leave your brother's side."

"What makes you think you're leaving this hospital alive?" Dean asked, cocking his head.

At that, Cameron brought her arm up and plunged the syringe in her hand into the shapeshifter's neck, pushing in fifteen milligrams of air. The shifter barely had time to smugly question what she thought she was doing trying to hurt it without silver before it stopped, seemingly in confusion, dropping the scalpel to the ground and stumbling backwards into the wall, falling to the ground as it clutched its neck.

Cameron lunged away as soon as she was free and Dean grabbed the knife from the ground and leapt at the shifter, thrusting the blade into its heart. With another gasp and its eyes going wide, it tried meekly to take in another breath before it fell to the ground, empty eyes staring at nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Glad everyone liked the shapeshifter! Thanks for all the reviews! :)**

Chapter 9:

"Ali," Dean snapped, moving quickly to her side and putting an arm behind her, taking her arm. "You okay?"

"Yea," she breathed with a nod, pushing away his supporting hold. "Yea, I'm fine."

Dean nodded in return and smiled slightly. "Nicely done."

Cameron snorted. "Thanks." She turned to House. "You okay?"

House blinked at her. "Am _I _okay? The…The…guy had a scalpel to your throat!" he exclaimed.

"Yea. He did. And you just had your first encounter with a shapeshifter," she shot back. "I repeat, are you okay?"

House looked down to the dead shifter. "It's dead, right?"

Cameron nodded once. "Yea."

House sighed. "Then I'm okay," he replied, leaning back against the wall.

"How'd you do that?" Dean asked, looking back to Cameron. "I mean, how'd that work?"

"Shifters are only affected by silver physically, and they can even heal from that, but they still have a heart and it still pumps blood," she replied. "It would have healed within minutes probably, but the air pocket in its veins gave me a chance."

"So you chanced your life on a hunch?" House asked, his eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't have tried something as risky as that."

Cameron looked to him. "You're kidding, right? You risk lives on hunches constantly."

"Not my own!" he exclaimed.

Cameron sighed. "Dean knows as well as I do that it would have slit my throat within the next two minutes, House," she said softly. "It wasn't a risk; it was deductive reasoning. It needed time to get away and letting me go wouldn't have accomplished that. Dean would have gone after him if he'd run." Cameron glanced back to Dean. "Unless I was bleeding from the throat," she whispered. "Then Dean would have stayed. Or at least hesitated."

House let out a huff. "Fine. Whatever," he muttered.

"Ali, you know the hospital. You take lead on this," Dean told her with a nod.

Cameron looked down to the shapeshifter, thinking quickly, and then to Dean, holding out her hand. "Pocket knife?" she asked. Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion, but got his switchblade out of his pocket, handing it to Cameron, who tucked it in her pocket and turned back to House. "I need you to go get a gurney and a sheet," she told him, her tone serious as she slipped into _hunter _mode. "Bring the body down to the basement, but instead of turning left to the morgue, turn right. The second door on your left is the boiler room. Put the body in there and stay with it until I get there."

"What the Hell are we—?"

"We'll put it in the incinerator," Cameron told him. "Nobody will be looking for it, because technically this guy doesn't exist, so as long as we're careful we won't get caught. At 1800 Fahrenheit, it'll take about two hours for the incinerator to cremate the body to ashes. Nobody will be down there until at least tomorrow morning, so that'll be fine."

House stared at her. "Do you commonly consider ways to commit murder and get away with it?" he asked.

"I don't have time for your crap now, House," she snapped. "Just do it." Cameron turned to Dean. "You have to stay here with Sam. You can't be seen walking around the hospital. I've already told the nurses to stay out of this room. But I need to go find Foreman."

Dean nodded once in confirmation, but House narrowed his eyes. "Foreman?" His eyes widened. "Dammit. Where—?"

"I don't know, House," she exclaimed. "We have to pray to God that the shifter didn't kill him. Now can you get the gurney or not?"

"Christ," House muttered. He pursed his lips and turned to the door, unlocking it and opening it. Cameron quickly followed him out, closing it behind herself, and went the other way down the hallway toward the OR.

_Foreman would have assisted with the surgery, then cleaned up, then tried to find me and House._ Following the normal path she thought Foreman would take, Cameron looked in vacant rooms, closets, anywhere he could fit. Her eyes widened as they landed on the area of the hospital being renovated and she ducked under the Caution tape, searching through the area.

Cameron finally found him, unconscious, his wrists and ankles bound with duct tape. "Foreman!" she cried, rushing over to him. She quickly checked his pulse, relieved to find it still beating, and untied the gag wrapped around his head. Her hands brushed up against the back of his head, which was bloody. "Damn. Foreman, can you hear me?"

Foreman let out a small, unintelligible murmur as Cameron took out Dean's switchblade, cutting the tape. "You were knocked out. You'll be okay, just try to stay conscious. There's the possibility of a concussion." She cut the tape on his ankles, freeing them up as well.

"Cam'rn?" she heard him mutter.

"You'll be okay," she said, her voice hitching slightly, taking out her cell phone.

Cameron tried to ignore the tight feeling in her chest that was frustratingly similar to guilt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Here's the last chapter, and then we have an epilogue.**

Chapter 10:

Foreman lay on the hospital bed, resting, and after Cameron stood there watching him sleep for a few minutes she went back to Sam's room. Both brothers looked up to her as she walked in, Sam slightly sleepy-eyed.

"I was just talking to Sam," Dean said quietly. "We're gonna haul ass. You know how we're getting out?"

Cameron stared at him, blank-faced, for a few moments before she nodded. "Yea." She folded her arms, looking to Sam. "How are you feeling?"

Sam paused to consider the question carefully. "Very, very _good_," he stated with a crooked smile.

Dean couldn't help a smile looking over to his brother and then back to Cameron. "Yea, we aren't really used to the good stuff, so Sammy here's enjoying being drugged up."

Cameron nodded again. "Good."

The smile slipped from Dean's face. "Look, Ali—."

"Don't," she interrupted Dean. "Just…don't." Her voice was surprisingly devoid of emotion. Cameron licked her lips anxiously before she swallowed, looking over to Dean. Dean looked back with an uneasy gaze. "You've already said you're sorry. A few times. So enough of that. It was my decision to bring you guys in here under the radar and I'm not sorry for that. You guys are like brothers to me and I wouldn't have turned you away when you needed help."

"Ali—," Dean started again.

"But this _is_ your fault too," she said through clenched teeth, glaring at Dean. He looked away. "You brought this fight to me. I left it for a reason. Foreman's lying in a hospital bed because of a shifter that _you_ led here."

"Ali, thissis _not _Dean's _fault_," Sam told her explicitly, doing his best to defend his brother. "Shiftshapers are _evil _and—."

"Sam, if I had to do it all over again I'd make the same decisions," Cameron told him. "But…just don't count on me any more after this. Because I'm out. Next time you need help, you go to another hunter. Not to me."

Sam stared at her for a long moment, almost sadly, before Dean spoke. "Fair enough," he murmured.

Cameron gave a final nod. "I'm going to go get a wheelchair and the nurses that are helping us and we'll get you out of here." At that, she turned and left the room, closing the door.

Sam stared at his brother, even in his drugged state able to read the expression on his face plain as day. Mostly because he'd seen it before. Dean had failed to protect someone he cared about. He'd brought the danger straight to Ali. It didn't matter that everyone was okay or that it was Ali's decision to cover for them. Dean still felt guilty. And Sam couldn't help him with that. Hell, Sam felt guilty too.

"Dean issnot—," Sam started, hardly realizing he was speaking.

"How're the stitches holding up?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands together, looking over to Sam.

Their gazes met and Sam's chest tightened slightly, even through the morphine, as he saw the mask he was familiar with. The one where Dean was feeling badly about something, but was the slightest bit too tired to successfully disguise it with a fake grin.

"Dean…" Sam murmured.

"Sam, let's just get out of here, okay?" Dean asked, getting to his feet. He forced the mask further, managing to get it to the level where he could fool strangers into thinking he was fine. Sam could still tell, of course, but he pushed it aside.

"Yea," Sam replied with a sigh. "We gah'some happy pills to-go?"

"I swiped some, enough so we'll have some left over for whatever crap rains down on us next. Even got some of the good stuff," he said with a smile.

Sam nodded drowsily. "Nice," he sighed. He stared at Dean for a few moments before Dean looked up to him.

"What?"

Sam blinked. "Nothin'."

Dean continued to look at him. "You want to stare somewhere else? I mean I know I'm good-looking, but seriously, dude."

Sam blinked again, his eyebrows furrowing. "B't…yer m'brother."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Sam sighed, as if annoyed that Dean didn't understand the statement. "And…I'm tired."

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. "Close your eyes. I'll get you up when Cameron gets back, we'll shlep you to the Impala, get out of here.

Sam didn't reply, just let his eyes close. He knew Dean didn't regret bringing Sam here. He knew Dean didn't regret asking Cameron for help, manipulatively or financially. It was their best option to keep Sam safe and healthy, which was always Dean's primary concern. Like Cameron, Sam knew that Dean had no regrets.

But it didn't mean he didn't have a wish or two.


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue:

House caught the ball with his cane before throwing it back up to the wall, letting it bounce off, and catching it again. His brain went in rhythm with it, bouncing around the symptoms of his latest patient, trying to figure out what was going on with the case.

The glass door to his office swung open and Cuddy walked in, stopping just short of House's desk. House caught the ball and swiveled his desk chair to face her. "I'm meditating. Is this urgent?" he asked, ignoring the slightly confused and slightly annoyed look on her face.

"I was going through finances for the ER," Cuddy told him. "There was an appendectomy done last week for one…Sam Durham," she said, glancing to the papers in her hand. "Went through without insurance. Someone paid every penny of the $11,258.42. I thought that was a little strange. What's stranger is that _Cameron_ was the one that paid it."

House stared at her, then realized that she wanted some sort of response or acknowledgement. "She tends to take on charity cases."

"Not to mention the fact that all this took place the evening I went home from _food poisoning_," Cuddy continued in a low, angry voice. "And that was the night that Foreman was knocked out and restrained by an unknown assailant. You know, the night that had me feeling like I had been given ten pieces to a hundred-piece puzzle? There anything you want to tell me?"

"Not really."

"House," she said, her tone strong with a warning.

Letting his ball fall to the ground and leaning on his cane, House took a breath and let it out before looking back to Cuddy. He stared at her for a few seconds, and she narrowed her eyes back, slightly unnerved by the serious gaze, as he knew she would be. "Cameron called in a favor with me. I kept you out to give you plausible deniability. Plus the fact that you would have exacerbated the situation."

Cuddy stared at him. "You did what?" she snapped. "What did you…? It was an appendectomy," she told him. "What could have been so complicated about that?"

"It's over and done with, no repercussions to speak of. Nobody died, nobody went to prison, nobody's being sued. Since I've gotten involved in situations dealing with all three of those, this was pretty minor. You're…quite intelligent. Put together the pieces. What do you come up with?" House asked, cocking his head slightly.

Cuddy glanced away and then back to House, almost nervous to come up with the answer. "No insurance. So either he was flat broke or he didn't want anyone knowing he was here. Or both." House stared at her, not confirming or denying her train of thought. "An appendectomy is cause for an emergency trip to the ER," Cuddy continued slowly, as if talking it out. "So he probably didn't have a choice and came to Cameron for help. You giving me plausible deniability means…." She stopped, letting out a sigh. "Means I really don't want to know what happened. Even though it pisses me off to no end not knowing what went on in _my_ hospital," she muttered.

House continued to stare.

Cuddy let out a sigh. "As long as this doesn't come back to bite me in the ass…if Cameron called in a favor with _you _then I guess she was pretty desperate." She shook her head and let out another sigh, this one sounding as if she wished she had fired House long ago. "Continue your…meditation." At that, she left the office and House picked up his ball, putting it on the curved end of his cane, and resumed bouncing it off the wall.


End file.
